Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a little tribe living in a world all alone. The world was theirs and theirs alone. They were led by a female, beautiful as the lone sun that shined over the hills. Nature itself poured its magic into her, and she was so bright, so full of life! She was, by all means, the incarnation of life. And those people…they were immortal, undying, deathless.
Years passed and passed. The tribe grew and was no longer little—it was big and glorious! They knew art, they knew music. They would dance under the moonlight, they would dance under the sunshine, They would dance and dance and dance until the days grew cold and old. And then they would dance again until the days were reborn anew. They were happy; they had everything they wanted and didn’t want. But no happiness lasts forever.
The female led them to greatness. They discovered every hidden land, uncovered every secret. And on one of their adventures, they found an ancient place, old and dark—gloomy like the things unthought. They named the place Zolamat, for no ray of sunshine could reach it. There was a gate. The female found it first, and she didn’t know where it would lead. But she reached for the handle anyway and opened the door. At first, there was nothing. But then a voice came—raw and cold as the cracking sound of shattering stones, as if it hadn’t been used for eons.
“Do I know you?” The voice said, with a surprising tone of innocence.
The female paused, shivering at the coldness of the voice and melting inside from its innocence. What to answer? What to say? She didn’t know the voice. And yet…it was familiar. Familiar as the rumbling hum that ran deep through the world. And there was something in the voice that showed its owner craved to speak, to be talked to. So she answered: “No, you don’t. You don’t know me. Who are you?”
The voice, deeper in its innocence and shallower in coldness, now stammered: “I am…I am…”
And then nothing. The silence was lost, yearning to be filled.
The female took pity on him, for she was kind, and the voice was in need of kindness. she reached out her hand and called upon the voice: “Come with me. I’ll show you my world."
There was a tremble in the world. The door made a creaking noise. The voice asked: “Does your world have enough space for me?”
The female laughed. “Of course it does. Our world is vast, and you are one person!”
Their world had enough space for everyone. It could be a home for everyone. And one person—one person so vulnerable, so innocent—couldn’t be dangerous. Certainly not! Nothing in their world was dangerous.
So, the voice came out of the darkness beyond the door and took the female’s hand. A face appeared, beautiful as the full moon in a starless night. And they walked together in the vast world beyond Zolamat.
Time passed, and the female fell in love. She had no reason for this deep feeling that never ceased to warm her heart. She couldn’t understand this profound yearning that kept her awake at night. All she knew, all she could understand, was one word: love.
She loved and loved the voice. And so they lived together in that beautiful and happy world. And like all who find love, The female was happy and oblivious of what was to come.
The voice became vacant, his eyes like frozen stones that once belonged to a thriving volcano. The innocence within his eyes became mocking and the vulnerability became a game. and she saw none of it, for she was in love.
But there were things that her love could not blind her to.
Life was growing weary. Time—this passing force of the land and nature, this strange and unknown thing that dried the leaves in the fall and grew them green and new in the spring—was showing itself to them. The days grew shorter; people began to wither. Illness and decay crept into their world.
Mortality had found them.
It was an autumn morning, a blissful one. a chilly breeze brushed her cheeks, and the aroma of fresh oranges tickled her nose. The female woke up, breathed deeply, tasting the scent in the air, and placed her hand on her womb. A light feeling filled her fingertips—a life was growing inside her. A child, the fruit of her love, pulsed weakly within her.
Oh the joy that filled he heart. She prayed to the land that nurtured them… could this joy last forever in this newly dying world? The answer though… it was soon to come.
as the life inside her grew stronger, the world grew colder. She saw her beloved less and less. He would go for days, just to come back stronger…darker, more beautiful. More…him.
One day, she asked: “Where are you going, my dear? I need you by my side. I want you to be here when our child takes their first breath.”
The voice answered quietly, his voice so sure, so grounding: “I will be. I will be by your side when my child is born.”
But he left again. Days passed, and then days gave their place into months. White crystals began to fall from the sky, and a white crust covered the lands. Precious time went by, and shiny little stars streaked through the night, swift and fleeting, leaving traces of other worlds behind.
The female had a pot—a small cauldron she used to boil herbs in it and make medicine to heal the sick, whose numbers grew day by day. She used it to draw upon nature’s magic, manipulating it as she wished. She healed with it, she created with it, she talked to it… It was a passage for the life that ran through their world, a key to the unknown world beyond.
It was into this cauldron that she poured her magic to save her people.
At last, the awaited day came. When the pain of labor struck her, a darkness—vast and consuming—spread around the world. She was frightened. Something was happening, something new, something dangerous. Dread grew in her heart as the unrelenting pain struck her again and again. Where was her beloved? Where was his promise?
The female looked up at the darkening sky. A familiar hum resonated in the spreading darkness that seemed to devour everything in its path, innocent, kind, caring…cold. She called out to him—to her beloved. The answer came and at last, the answer came.... it was indeed the darkness that was consuming her people one by one, shortening their lives, turning them into withered flowers, into fallen leaves.
And deep in her bones and through each strand of her soul…she knew it. She knew what he was for he was her equal in all things and none.
She tried to fight it… fight him with her light, but the darkness was thick, and the pain too harsh. In that moment, She was but a little light—a mere nur— weakened by giving life! nothing compared to this vast, suffocating shadow.
She placed her hand on her belly, feeling her child. A sacrifice was needed. Something had to be done. To save this world, to carry it on.
And so they did it. They did what must be done.
The remaining people, those not yet consumed by illness, withering, or the tempting call of the darkness, gathered together. They circled the female—the soon-to-be mother. She fought against the sweet pain that promised new life. She collected every symbol of life’s essence: a fistful of soil, a flicker of fire, a drop of water, and a breath of air. She gathered light and shadow. She looked to the rising sun battling through the impenetrable nightmare… and she gathered all the hope she could muster... she took a deep breath and reach her magic to the stars hidden by the dark.
She poured all of these into her cauldron, and a new age begun.
she began to forge with the white fire that was her blessing, her healing magic, her life. The darkness rumbled. A shudder ran through the spine of the world as she began her chant. Every life that remained—every living thing that had survived thus far—ceased its wandering and being. They all surrendered themselves, giving their essence to that ancient pot.
The cauldron effervesced. Little golden sparks rose, forming intricate symbols and lines. The female looked at the darkness devouring her world—the love of her life. She looked down at her cauldron, holding all there was to her world, and finally, she smiled at her belly, the source of her pain, the greatest hope of them all.
A final sacrifice was needed. Every living being had given their lives. Now, she too must act. One strong life, one forged of life itself, was needed to defeat the darkness, to destroy it forever. The last life was her child.
But then again. She was a mother. The mother. And this world… did it worth her sacrifice? Did this world meant more that her child?
She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough. But if she couldn’t destroy the darkness, a cage would be just fine. The one she loved so dearly could be spared—his destruction postponed. This fateful battle could be left for their child.
and a terrible decision was made. The babe was born, and the darkness survived, in a cage…within darkness. How, you ask? I will tell you.
She did indeed sacrifice her child, but only his body, but his soul survived. She made a bargain with the new soul, the remnant of the old world and the symbol of the new one: “Hello, my dear. Hello, my child. Find the time where you can live and thrive. Find a body that suits you. Destroy the darkness that is your sire. Save the world that is your mother’s. Live, my dearest, and stay true. Have love for those who deserve it and pity for those who do not. Never kill and never harm. Be as kind as the rain and judge no one. Remember that I love you—that I have always loved you. More than this world… or any other.”
She blew on the little light, the soul of her child, and let it roam the world that was about to be begun.
She held the soulless body of her child and kissed her son’s lifeless form one last time, she gave it to the cauldron then and cried. The darkness was sealed by a mother who has just became one. Now she stood alone in a burned and blackened world, knowing it would blossom anew not so far along. She smiled sadly and gave herself up, ascending to the skies. She watched the new world below, her child’s future home—the child born of light and darkness.
Even now, that child roams the world. Or perhaps...his roaming is done?